


Jacket blues

by Rothecooldad



Series: Ro does flash fics [6]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Matt is a little Shit, nobody is helpful, ryan pls calm down boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rothecooldad/pseuds/Rothecooldad
Summary: "Take. It. Off.""Come over here and make me."





	Jacket blues

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are based upon the internet personalities portrayed by members of Achievement Hunter and in no way are meant to reflect the lives of the actual person or persons themselves.

“ _Now, where the fuck–_ ” Ryan mumbled to himself, scratching his head. He stood, staring into his closet, rifling through the clothes hanging there for what had to be the fifth or sixth time.

The thing is, Ryan distinctly remembers hanging up his jacket the night before. Or, at least, he _thinks_ he does. He’d barely been able to strip off his clothes and climb under the covers before he’d completely passed out, so his memory was a bit fuzzy.

But, the fact still stands, the jacket _should_ be there, hanging up exactly where he put it.  And, it clearly _wasn’t._

So, either Ryan was losing it (which, yeah, okay maybe. But, like, he might not have been the _youngest_ of the crew, but he wasn’t nearly old enough to be going senile yet. Check Geoff in a few more years, but Ryan was still doing pretty damn good, thanks), or one of the other chucklefucks he lived with was doing _something_ and Ryan would be the victim.

And, Ryan _really_ hated being a victim.

Giving one last forlorn look at his clothes, because maybe he missed something the other six times, he sighed and walked out of the bedroom, intending to get some answers. And, more importantly, _get his fucking jacket back._

He’d been all over the penthouse, angrily questioning (or accusing, if he saw fit) each person he saw. Ryan was at his wits end on this mission and it was wearing down his already thin nerves.

Geoff had just laughed at him, and provided some insulting, and just overall unhelpful, comments. Ryan threatened bodily harm. Geoff laughed harder.

Jack had just  given him a look that Ryan could only assume translated roughly into, “ if you even think about blaming me for this shit, they’ll never find the body.” So, he changed tactics, asking her _very_ politely whether she had any information or not. She didn’t, but suggested maybe checking in on the lads. Ryan thanked her and then thanked his lucky stars that he’d managed to avoid making her angry. He’d learned his lesson last time.

Michael and Gavin both seemed sketchy as fuck, and Ryan was, understandably, extremely suspicious. But, any further questioning, and any promise of retribution if they fucked with him, went in one ear and out the other, and Ryan was forced to give up that particular route for now.

He might have been a little desperate by the time he’d gotten to Jeremy, but he figured that was perfectly reasonable at this point. He just wanted his damn jacket. And, he really couldn’t have been held accountable for the way he tore out of the room as soon as Jeremy had given him a stupid, knowing smile and told him, “Dude, go ask Matt.”

So,  much like he did in front of his closet that morning where this whole debacle began, Ryan stood outside of Matt’s office (or what he’d claimed as his office. Really, it was another bedroom in the penthouse that Matt had installed more monitors than Ryan could ever imagine him needing, but, whatever, he wasn’t the hacker), completely ready to tear him a new one.

“Hey, Matt.” He called, pushing open the door. “You seen my jack-”  Ryan stopped abruptly, staring at Matt in confusion.

“Asked and answered, I guess.”

Because, yeah, obviously Matt has seen his jacket considering the fucker was sitting there, _wearing it._

“Matt,” Ryan entered the room cautiously. “What the fuck?”

“Hey, Rye.” Matt greeted, absentmindedly raising his hand in a half-assed wave.

“Yeah, Hi.” Ryan waved back. “I repeat. _What the fuck?”_

“Hmm, what?” Matt finally paid attention to Ryan, turning to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“My jacket.” Ryan explained, gesturing toward Matt’s chest. “Take it off.”

“Nah.”

_“Nah?”_ Ryan parroted incredulously. **“Take. It. Off.”**

Matt clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Don’t really feel like it, sorry.”

He didn’t _sound_ sorry.  And, the smirk he was giving Ryan sure as fuck didn’t make him _look_ sorry, either.

Ryan took a deep breath, letting it out in a very frustrated huff.

“Give me back my fucking jacket, Matthew.”

Matt’s smirk widened to a full out grin.

“Nope.” He said, popping  the ‘p’ obnoxiously. **“Come over here and make me."** he challenged. “It’s big, warm, and it smells like you.”

And, well, Ryan didn’t exactly have a response to that. His brain was short-circuiting, and fuck, did that one sentence make Ryan’s heart want to beat out of his chest.

“I-” Ryan slammed his mouth shut and swallowed. “Y-yeah, well. Fine. Wear it.” he said, turning around and fleeing from the room. “But, I’m taking your hoodie.”

_“Don’t get it dirty.”_ Matt called back to him, already going back to his work.

And, by God, was Ryan careful not to get blood on it.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu [ @jeremwood ](https://jeremwood.tumblr.com)


End file.
